


climb up a mountain and we'll take in the sights

by la_victorienne



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-06
Updated: 2009-01-06
Packaged: 2018-10-16 00:55:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10560648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_victorienne/pseuds/la_victorienne
Summary: it's christmas eve and jack is feeling a bit like scrooge.





	

As the words were spoken, they passed through the wall, and stood upon an open country road, with fields on either hand. The city had entirely vanished. Not a vestige of it was to be seen. The darkness and the mist had vanished with it, for it was a clear, cold, winter day, with snow upon the ground.

“Good Heaven!” said Scrooge, clasping his hands together, as he looked about him. “I was bred in this place. I was a boy here!”

\-- Charles Dickens,  
A Christmas Carol, Stave II - The First of Three Spirits

Jack has lived on the Rift quite a long time, and still never understands how it knows to take only one major holiday a year off. This year the lapse falls on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, which is fortunate, because both Gwen and Ianto begged off for them, Gwen citing Rhys’ parents and Ianto citing – what was it, Ianto had cited? Jack isn’t sure he paid attention; he was, to be honest, a little miffed that Ianto didn’t have plans for the two days with _him_ that he must have forgot what Ianto actually said.

And so here he is, sitting miserable and alone at his desk at seven o’clock Christmas Eve, listening to the mysterious, impossible-to-locate grandfather clock chime, wondering what Ianto is doing right now, in his flat with whoever he’s spending the holiday with. He hopes, perversely, that it’s a terrible holiday, that someone is sick on the carpet Ianto just had shampooed, that a family member embarrasses and shames Ianto by asking when he’s going to marry that lovely Lisa girl, that Ianto gets so frustrated with the family he was born with that he chooses Jack as his family to spent Christmas with, even thought it won’t satisfy Jack’s indignant discontent.

He is aware, on some level, that he’s being childish and petty, allowing the fact that the two people who comprise _his_ life have lives of their own, but it’s Christmas Eve, and he’s by himself, without such a mention of “oh, would you like to join us, Jack?”

Well, all right, Gwen might’ve asked, but he’s tired of awkward conversations with Rhys, as he’s still not sure Rhys believes him when he says he won’t steal Gwen away – as if he could, even if he tried. And, besides, Rhys’ mother? Still thinks he’s the scum of the earth, which is a great laugh for the Williams family and just another thorn in Jack’s perpetually sore side. He’d rather _actually_ be drawn over glass than endure her shouting again, and that’s saying something. No, he’s content to seethe here at his desk, flicking restlessly from CCTV camera to CCTV camera, until he finds something to interest – ho, what’s there? On the cobbles of the Plass is a familiar figure, dark suited and slim, and Jack smiles dangerously to himself, thinking perhaps he has gotten what he wished for.

Ianto is descending down the invisible lift, hands still and clasped in front of him, eyes straight ahead, boring into the place he knows Jack sits. Jack just lets him come, confident that Ianto is here for him, and leans back in his chair arrogantly, linking his fingers and placing his interlocked hands behind his head. And so he sits, watching, waiting.

But Ianto isn’t here for him, not really; he rifles in his workstation for a moment, pulling out a box of strike-anywhere matches and a small, neatly wrapped gift with a ribbon and a bow, both of which he pockets. Jack isn’t sure Ianto has even seen him, as the young man heads back to the lift, but Ianto has.

“If you’re coming, come on, Jack. Dinner’s going cold because you’re trying to make a grand appearance, and my Mam swore to leave if you didn’t show soon. If you’re not, you can stay – I won’t hold it against you if you’ve changed your mind.” Jack’s jaw falls slack, all the arrogance wiped from his face, guilt slowly replacing it. A memory steals upon him, one he’s chosen to ignore because it suited his dank and bitter mood: his head in Ianto’s lap, the gas fire burning before them, talking about Christmas plans, “as long as the Rift doesn’t go to hell.” He’d completely forgotten he’d promised to have dinner with Ianto and his family; when Ianto had asked for the time off, Jack had completely ignored the end of his sentence. It must have been some reminder of his obligation – Jack feels sheepish, and stupid, and a bit of a Scrooge for the season, and he mumbles as much when he joins Ianto on the lift. Ianto doesn’t say anything, just slips the gift from his pocket into Jack’s hands and fishes out the keys to his car.

“Come on,” he says. “Mam will probably scold you, but tell her you were trying to lessen _my_ load and you’ll get on with her fine.”

“But I wasn’t,” Jack points out, before he realizes that’s not the best thing to say in the circumstances. Ianto smiles a little and shrugs.

“I know that, but she won’t, and it’s important to me that she like you. She’s still a civilian, not one of the team, and what she doesn’t know about your self-indulgent tendencies won’t hurt her.”

Jack nods, appropriately scolded, and tentatively reaches out for Ianto’s hand as they walk across the Plass, something of an apology. Ianto accepts it and squeezes back in forgiveness – in love. 


End file.
